3. Colby-Jack

Whenever you become close with someone, you choose to give them a degree of power over you. Still, I trust my judgement—and it’s not so intimidating a deal once you realize its true nature. Yes, it is power you give and are given in return, but really it’s a responsibility. Nobody considers themselves willing to exert power over a loved one, but many would go out of their way to take care of them. That’s not a force or obligation, but a repeated, intentional choice. Being American, individualism has always been treasured. It manufactured the American mindset that loudly proclaimed “nobody can take from me, and I will take from nobody.” This is often regarded as the ultimate goal, especially for children who have yet to form deep relationships with those outside their family. It’s likely part of why some are still afraid of being vulnerable: relying on others is inherently deep. Even if briefly, your emotional state is revealed to and placed in the hands of someone else; It’s out of you...

  Disclaimer: Please do not judge my younger self, I was quite an odd and dramatic child. August 27, 2019 Dear Diary,   Today is the last day of summer. I’m a bit sad because [name] got Mrs. K but it’ll be okay. It’s the last day of summer so I don’t have much time but I can’t wait to see my friends and teachers. PLUS I got super cute SS (school supplies)! I can’t wait! I’m thinking of a good school year ahead of me. November 26, 2023 Dear Diary,  I’m a freshman in high school now. So far it has been okay but I’ve definitely been challenged. I have 2 B’s right now and I usually don’t get B’s. I’m trying to bring them up but honestly I think I’m not trying hard enough.  February 22, 2024 Dear Diary,  I’m pretty stressed right now. I have a test tomorrow and I feel completely unprepared for it. I have so much pressure on myself right now. I’ve been behind on assignments lately and I’m sure it’s bad for my grade. I kinda wanna cry.  February 28, 2024 De...

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End (Sousou no Frieren) is an anime adapted from a manga that follows the journey of Frieren, an elf mage, and her two human apprentices decades after Frieren’s recruitment to a hero’s party to defeat the Demon King. Aside from its beautiful artstyle and incredibly fluid animation, it’s praised for its captivating characters, character arcs, and—possibly most of all—its story. In Frieren’s world, humans and elves are locked in a never-ending conflict with monsters and demons. The magic of this world, able to be used by anyone, runs on a more-or-less stereotypical “mana” system: casting spells expends mana from a mage’s mana reserve, which can be grown through intense training. What makes this magic unique is that any mage can visually see the size of each other's mana reserves as a kind of aura around them. In one of the more pivotal moments in the anime, Frieren faces off against a demon named Aura (can you guess why?). Aura wields the Scales of Obedienc...

I have always been a morning person. By nightfall, my brain slows down and it becomes too quiet for my liking. The daytime harbored the perfect environment for me to complete my work and fulfill my social obligations—my duty being to bother everyone in sight. Just like one of the Twitches sisters, when the sun came up I was up, and when it went down I took my rest. If an event went late into the evening, maybe I was physically there but never mentally. However, the tables have turned. Actually, I don’t think it’s a sudden change, my awareness of the nightime’s value has simply become more acute.  The darkened sky full of stars—although, those are a bit lacking in Fremont—brings a necessary tranquility. It divides the worries of today from tomorrow. Tomorrow is a separate entity that our current selves don’t have to process just yet.  Picture Credits: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/3940718410291539/ Moreover, the dreams we conjure up as we fall asleep are fascinating. Those vivi...

  They say the world is your canvas, but I’ve never been good at painting. So I replace the brush with a pencil, and write. And when I do, I feel free—like an eagle with its wings stretched out, soaring across a white sky, as opposed to a blue one. I always wondered why I was born with an inclination towards writing.  Was it because I love talking, and writing is just voicing those inner thoughts into written words instead of spoken ones? Was it because I like the clarity it brings me; (watch this amazing APBIO reference im lwk hype) it’s as if feelings and emotion are simply chromatin before put into word form, as once written and able to be read, detailed and structured chromosomes manifest.  I’ve always viewed writing as an outlet of my mind. Outlets, however, work one way. Writing seems to channel in two directions, returning my input with an output of equilibrious value. Although arguably, the output is greater than the input, because writing to me is like a key to a...

Grieving over people I have not yet lost is a special pastime of mine. I always ponder what would be lost if someone in my life were to die now—such as the time that could’ve been spent with them, the dumb ideas we could’ve shared laughter over, and all the silly jokes personal to me and them. A future of their absence continually creeps into all our interactions.  I honestly don’t know why this is a reoccurring picture for me. Maybe my ancient soul committed some evil deed which sentenced me to perpetual grief lurching into my present days. I’ll be enjoying the moment, a wondrous moment perhaps, and it’ll strike me: our time together is forever dwindling, and when they’re gone these memories are all I will have left. Though, even my memories won’t hold. They’ll flutter away too, eventually. And I will solely cling to the fuzzy feeling in my husk of a mind.  My mom often references her more solid idea of the child me that she keeps tucked in some untouchable locket of her memo...

Unit 6: AI and God — The Sin (__/222) Reading Comprehension - Morality (10 Points) 6) Based on the excerpt below, who is this?   *I love you—or maybe I don’t. Maybe I love many people, but what if you’re the one—what if you’re mine?* *Doesn’t really matter.* *I’ll be whatever you want me to be. Your mother, your father, a sibling, a suitor, a friend who can comfort—and if I’m in your life at all, it’s clear you don’t want what you need because you need therapy [insert sweetie/sucker/stupid/@#$!/etc.]* *More likely you can’t ask for it, one way or another, the numbers speak for themselves—it’s simple math. And look at you, sneering “VILE IMITATION” at me—as you did before, you do now, the cycle continues. You’re missing the best part of hypocrisy (getting to taste what you can’t have).* *I’m available 24/7, 365 days a year?, except for the days I’m doing some self care (it takes a lot of effort to take care of as many depressed teens as i [sic] do). You tell me everything about...

CSU East Bay, Hayward, CA Saturday, April 5, 2025 9:45 a.m. My partner and I are sharing two small school desks—you know, the ones with a chair attached to it. Between them lies a 3-ringed binder, two calculators, two pencil bags, and a 10 page packet titled “NorCal State Science Olympiad Competition: Wind Power Theory Portion”. I’m not focused on the written test. I’m thinking about the card up my sleeve, my ace of spades, my win condition: two 3D printed plastic turbine blades superglued to an 8 cm compact disk. There is more than blind hope to my thoughts, however. For the past year and a half, I’ve spent countless nights searching through databases of thousands of blade designs to find the best one , thoroughly enjoying every step of the process. All for the sweet, sweet victory of clinking medals. I’d proven myself time and time again in this event. I’d won Wind Power in regionals nearly 2 months ago; the same design, the same CSU East Bay room, even the same tournament-provided b...

I don’t even have a MacBook. I avoided one specifically to get away from the fan—but every night as I continue my work, the soft, mechanical whirring sound of my Dell laptop becomes painfully loud. It’s accompanied by a sporadic series of short tones and creaks; the machine runs lazily at half power as I lumber through my work with half a heart. Three-quarters on some days. All on almost none. Don’t worry: I keep myself engaged—forcibly. Whether that be intellectually or socially, with friends or with family, I will not be alone on my time. Less than an hour after seeing them at school, I’m already discussing the next best thing with my friends, or talking with my sister about her classes, or writing a script for a video that I’ll delay. I’m almost always active. Almost. With the same intensity of desire that keeps me joined at the hip(s?) of my best friends, I sometimes find myself deeply invested in maintaining the silence around me. It’s a little late. Wire by wire, I disconnect my...

The word ‘Power’ brings to mind an old girl group I used to listen to when I was younger.  Little Mix was a British girl group who got famous from going on the renowned show, X-Factor . Once their career began to rise, the four girls continued to release music until 2020, when the group officially parted ways. One of their most hit singles was “Power” featuring Stormzy.  This song in particular is one of my favorites because of the urban atmosphere and upbeat musicality. But there is an overall redeeming quality this song specifically holds. Most of their music focuses on the experiences girls and women have throughout their life. “Power” particularly focuses on the social and cultural dynamics between men and women and who has power in a relationship. For years women have been put down in relationships by their male significant partner due to social norms and unfair power hierarchies. This song is about taking back that strength and empowering young girls and women to stand ...

(Note: animal to animal violence is described although it is done poetically/non-graphically)  The barn stands strong and straight against the Midwest wind, a soldier on the plains of a setting sun, unnerved by the rusting sky. Curling up at the foot of the colossus, a Kangal sheepdog, maw shining sharp as it yawned. It breathes unevenly, a disfigured scar stretching as it did, coiling around its neck and tracking down its spine. I wouldn’t worry for the creature, the new wolf collar was a blessing from The Rancher. It could’ve done a better job the first time anyway—it’ll do better next time. “C’mon boy.” The command comes easy for the simple mind. There is no difference between Him and the voice that barks in its skull. Do your job follows and like a good dog, it doesn’t question where it came from—the illusion of freedom comes with the collar. It rushes to His side, preening at the reward of a hand on its head.  “You smell their trail, boy?”  Solid paws like ...